


I'm All In

by imdeansgirl



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5532305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Scott and Isaac spent Christmas Eve together, and one time they spent Christmas Day together. Or: A Scott/Isaac Gilmore Girls AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm All In

**Author's Note:**

> okay so, this was for my scott/isaac and my 5 + 1 squares on my [teen wolf bingo card](scisaacs.tumblr.com/tagged/teen%20wolf%20bingo), but... this accidentally turned into a gilmore girls au? with scott as lorelai, liam as rory, and isaac as luke. mason is lane, brett is paris, allison is sookie with stiles as jackson, lydia is michel, and malia and kira briefly appear as babette and morty. but really, you do not need to have seen gilmore girls because i changed a lot. anyways here we go!

**I.**

The town of Stars Hollow is damn quiet. So damn quiet, in fact, that Scott and Liam are the highlight of the town’s gossip for months after they move in. Their new neighbors come and greet them with zeal, and positively coo over Liam who, like any three-year-old would, laps up the attention. The flare of the welcome wagon is almost as suffocating as the puffy winter coats they wear. While Kira introduces Liam to their baby (or, their three-hundred-year-old cat whose name is something like Kit-sew-nay), her wife Malia asks the standard questions Scott usually gets.

 _How old are you?_ Nineteen and counting.

 _Wow. That’s plenty young to have a three-year-old._ Yep, well, wouldn’t have it any other way.

 _How can you afford this house?_ The Wolf’s Den Inn pays good money after three or so years.

 _Where’s his mom?_ Honestly? Who knows? Jennifer ran off some time ago, directly after Liam was born, following her dreams to be an artist in Paris.

 _You’re such a good dad._ Not really. A good dad wouldn’t have been living in a shed out back of an inn for three years. But instead, Scott just smiles and says “thank you.”

After they spend a while chatting, Kira kindly points them in the direction of the nearest coffee shop, a place called _Lahey’s_ that looks like an old fashioned diner. “Well, they’re surely closed now,” Scott says, frowning at his watch. “So we’ll have to go tomorrow.”

Kira scrunches up her face. “Tomorrow? Why, it’s Christmas Eve!”

He’d almost entirely forgotten. The gifts are packed away in the box labeled “Office Supplies” (a box Liam is surely never to go into), and there’s a plant at the Wolf’s Den he’d planned to steal and use as a tree. “So they’re closed?” he asks forlornly.

Since he’s been living on the grounds, Scott has been taking the Wolf’s Den’s coffee in the mornings. The chef definitely does not appreciate it, allowing the pitiful janitorial staff to take his prized coffee. But he needs his daily fix; without it, there is a large chance of him being just plain grumpy. And no one, repeat _no one,_ wants a grumpy Scott.

Luckily, though, Malia barks a hearty laugh and shakes her head. “No,” she says. “Lahey’s is barely ever closed. But…” She shares a glance with Kira, and Scott understands. Really, he does. That’s the: _“We’re a couple and we disapprove of your choices but we don’t want to outright tell you”_ look. He likes to call it _That Look._ “It’s just, Lahey’s isn’t, maybe, the most kid-friendly place in the world,” she explains. “The owner is kind of a grouch, and if you cause a ruckus, it’s surely a way to get kicked out.”

A grouch? No one can be a grouch on Christmas, especially not to a three year old little boy. Scott waves off their silly concerns with one gloved hand. “It’ll be fine, really,” he says, a little too optimistic to his own ears. “Besides, I’ll just get my coffee to go and be on my way.”

Although Kira and Malia still have _That Look,_ they don’t argue any further. When Scott tucks Liam into bed, safe and warm, he glances out the window to see small, white flurries floating through the air. They fall to the ground and stay there, the first snowfall of the year. Scott takes it as a sign that something cosmically phenomenal is going to happen. So he _has_ to go get some coffee tomorrow. It could be the beginning of a great and powerful event… Right?

\--

“Coffee, coffee, coffee!” Liam chants. It’s one of his favorite words, and actually, one of the first words he learned to say. Which, Scott guesses, may say something about his own coffee addiction, but he shrugs it off.

As the two of them stumble towards Lahey’s, bundled up and the snow crunching beneath their feet, Liam continues his loud chant through the fabric of his scarf. A muffled repetition of “coffee!” rings out through the Stars Hollow square, hitting the people who pass them by head on. Some people laugh and smile, others roll their eyes, and others quickly look away. Scott wonders if they think Liam will try to bite them if they stare for too long, and then decides if he wouldn’t, Scott would.

A crisp bell chimes above them as they enter the cute little diner. There’s a table just a short few feet away from the counter, and Scott diligently sits down, pulling Liam up into his lap. As Liam situates himself and begins to play with the condiments on the table, Scott waits patiently to be served. A few tables over, a man stands over another man, serving him coffee, their conversation loud enough for Scott to hear without specifically eavesdropping.

The man sitting slams his fist on the table so hard that Scott is afraid the moles covering his arms and neck will fly off. “That—that is just cold, man,” he says with a frown. Everything about him seems to look disappointed in the other man; even his hair, which sticks up from the top of his head, seemingly deflates a little. “This diner has changed you, Lahey.”

Although Scott can’t see much of the other guy, who he assumes is the owner of the diner, he watches his back and shoulder muscles move as he shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Alan Rickman just bores me to death, and the other one—Firth? He’s just so emotionally detached. I did _not_ believe he wanted to learn another language.”

He can’t _possibly_ be… no. No, he can’t. There’s no way someone can be disrespecting _Love Actually_ in such a manner. But he continues. “I also thought the storyline with the little kid was trite, and literally everything was exceptionally heteronormative and _boring_.”

The man sitting gapes up at him, and whispers, “You’re a monster.”

It’s gotten to the point where Scott can’t hold it back anymore. _Love Actually_ is one of his favorite movies, if only because it’s one of the only ones that will put Liam to sleep. “Excuse me,” he says, loud enough so they can hear. The one in the chair nods in his direction, and the other one turns. His eyebrows, perfectly sculpted, lift on his head to the point where they’re only _just_ peeking out from his curly head of hair. They both look at him expectantly. “Were you talking about _Love Actually_?”

The eyebrows go even higher, if at all possible. “And what if I was?” he asks.

“Well, you’re wrong,” Scott says plainly. Eyebrows looks taken aback, but Sitting Man giggle-snorts and grins at him. “ _Love Actually_ is one of the greatest told stories of our time, and has themes and storylines that are both modern and connect throughout the ages. For example, the story about the two pornography stars is against slut shaming, and there are ones against fat shaming, cheating, and idealizing women. It’s actually a great movie, and I _will_ stop talking about it if you give me some coffee.”

Eyebrows just blinks at him. Then he sighs. “Holy crap, that was annoying. Wait your turn, I’ll get to you eventually.”

Sitting Man’s eyebrows go up and his mouth forms an ‘o.’ Scott glares, then says, “What’s your birthday?”

Taken aback, Eyebrows stutters out, “Uh, h-huh?”

“Your birthday?” Scott says again. “I assume you have one?” Sighing, Eyebrows mutters his answer. Scott reaches over the table, rips out a piece of paper, and jots down with the pen from his coat pocket. When he’s finished, it reads:

 _SCORPIO -_  
You will meet an annoying man, obsessed withLove Actually.  
_To make him go away, get him some coffee._

He hands it calmly to Eyebrows, who just stares down in surprise. Then he sighs and moves to the counter, where he grabs a to-go cup and dumps some coffee inside before setting it in front of Scott warily. “There,” he says with finality, then frowns down at his lap. It’s as if he’s just noticed Liam was there. He gestures to him and asks, “Who’s the kid?”

“My son,” Scott answers immediately. It’s reflex, at this point. “Liam.” Just then, said three-year-old knocks the ketchup off of the table, and Scott scrambles a little to catch it.

Eyebrows snorts. “Aren’t you a little young to have a kid?” he asks, and Scott narrows his eyes.

“Aren’t you a little young to own a diner?” he shoots back, and somewhere behind Eyebrows he hears the cheering of the Sitting Man.

Eyebrows grumbles, but tosses the horoscope back and turns away. “No,” Scott says, causing him to turn back. “You keep it. One day, it’ll bring you good luck.” He presses the ripped off paper in the hand of the owner, then, with Liam on one hip and his coffee in the other hand, he heads for the door.

“Isaac,” he hears, pausing with his hand hovering over the door. “Isaac Lahey. I own the place.”

Although he thinks privately that this man looks nothing like a grouch, Scott just smiles. “Scott,” he throws over his shoulder, “Scott McCall.” And with that, he opens the door so that the bells tingle above him, and he walks out.

**II.**

“Dad. Dad, wake up. Dad, _I am going to be late for school._ ”

Scott grumbles as he sits up, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Liam, do you have any idea what _time_ it is?” he asks wearily. “And it’s the twenty-third. Who on earth has school the _twenty-third_ of December? It’s Christmas Eve Eve.”

“I do,” Liam says, hooking a thumb at himself. “Me, this kid. Now can we get going?”

Ever since he’d gotten enrolled into Devenford Prep a few months ago, Liam has been the most stressed out fifteen-going-on-sixteen-year-old in the history of the world. And Scott had a kid at sixteen. He’s constantly worried about being on time, about getting all his homework done, about getting good grades. The only times he ever gets to be a kid is when he’s with his best friend, Mason, whose parents are so Christian-conservative he barely gets to leave the house.

Groaning, kicking, and screaming the entire way, Liam manages to help Scott get it together long enough to get him to Lahey’s for some coffee.

Ah, Lahey’s. At this point, it’s more home than his dad’s house was or will ever be. The familiar gleam of the blue floor tiles, the smell of fresh coffee, Isaac yelling at some poor customer every other hour.

“Look,” Isaac is saying, to a familiar head of bushy brown hair, “you can’t come in here and tell me what ingredients I should add to my food. Would you like _me_ to come into your kitchen and tell _you_ what you should cook?”

Now he’s done it. At first, there is a long, drawn out silence, but then Stiles whistles, low and loud. “If you did, you wouldn’t live another ten minutes.”

All the sudden, Allison stands. She’s in heels as it is, but she’s trying to get on her tiptoes, too, to get directly in Isaac’s face. “Listen, mister. Where did _you_ go to culinary school?”

Isaac doesn’t even look impressed. “I didn’t,” he says. “I just thought cooking was general knowledge.”

While that was probably supposed to deter her or spur her on, Scott senses it probably only broke her spirit. With a sigh, she sits down and puts her head on the table. “Leave me,” she murmurs.

Because Isaac looks about ready to argue, Scott steps in. “It’s okay,” he says, putting his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “I got this.” Isaac shoots him an annoyed but grateful look, and hurries off behind the counter.

While Liam gets busy grabbing them a table, Scott squats down to Allison’s sitting height. Seven years ago, when Allison began working at the Wolf’s Den Inn, they quickly became attached at the hip. Now, they’re best friends, business partners, and confidantes, scheming together to open their own inn. The plans are going pretty well; the purchase of the old Dragonfly Inn is well underway. “Allison,” he says in a low voice, “You okay?”

She grumbles something in return, but it’s unintelligible to Scott’s ears. “She had a bad day at the inn,” Stiles explains kindly. “Lydia is being a pain in the ass.”

Scott smiles gratefully at him. When he met Stiles, almost exactly thirteen years ago in the same very diner, he had no idea that they’d eventually grow to be close friends. Or even that, later, Stiles would eventually marry Allison. Or that, he remembers as Allison sits up straight and shows her petite baby bump, they would have kids of their own. “She’s not _just_ being a pain in the ass,” Allison grumbles. “She came in this morning, demanded a nonfat latte, and when I told her that I don’t know how to _make_ nonfat lattes, she just smiled and said ‘no problem,’ then left.”

When she doesn’t say anything more, Scott blinks once. Then twice. Then he asks, “That’s it?”

Allison slowly turns her head, a glare in her eyes. “She then seated all the most difficult tables towards the front for the breakfast rush,” she says. “The food was sent back about a hundred times, our waiting staff got completely tripped up, and most of the customers that would have been easy to serve left before we even got to their table.”

Oh. Yeah, that does sound very Lydia. “I’ll talk to her when we get back,” he offers, because as the manager of the inn, he has that kind of authority. Then he quickly stands and moves to his and Liam’s table before the matter can get any more out of hand.

Within seconds, Isaac arrives with a sigh on his lips. “And what can I do for you?” he asks them, and Liam and Scott frown up at him.

“You’re not going to take notes on your little notepad?” Liam asks, blinking innocently.

“Yeah,” Scott adds, nodding. “What if you forget our order?”

After shooting them both unimpressed looks, Isaac sighs and points to Liam. “Eggs, bacon, two hash browns, and a bucket of syrup.” Then he switches to Scott and recites, “Two pancakes with butter, one hash brown, one piece of toast with _I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter,_ and a bucket of syrup.” Then he sighs and pauses one moment before tacking on, “Coffees in bowl-sized cups for both, one black and one with tons of sugar.”

Feigning surprise, both father and son put their hands over their hearts. “How did you _know_?” Liam asks, and Isaac snorts.

“It’s a Wednesday,” he says plainly, before turning on his heel and heading towards the counter.

When he’s out of earshot, Scott turns to grin at Liam. “He’s always so fun to mess with,” he singsongs, but Liam doesn’t meet his eye. So Scott goes into Dad Mode. “What’s wrong?” he asks with a frown, leaning forward just a little. “You okay?” he asks. “Something wrong?”

“Can I tell you something, and you have to promise not to be mad?” Liam asks. Which is a weird question. Liam and Scott have been best friends, thick as thieves, since Liam was a little kid. Of _course_ Scott won’t be mad. So he just nods. Liam bites his lip, then blurts out: “Grandpa invited me to his fancy dinner party and I’d promised that I’d go.”

Oh. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Scott hasn’t been invited to a McCall Christmas Party since he was sixteen, when he left home with Liam. And before that, in the interval between when his dad left them and when his mom… anyway, Scott had been going to cotillions and Christmas parties since he was a baby, then stopped abruptly when he was six, then started all over again at thirteen. And it was always because of his dad that he went, a suit and tie slapped on him like a cheap mask. (He always managed to sneak a t-shirt on underneath and sneak out the window, but that was about the only saving grace.)

There’s a few seconds of silence as Scott processes the information, and in that timespan Liam must work himself up so much that he feels the need to blabber. “See, I know he’s an asshole, and he left you and Abuela when you were just a kid, but he’s the only family I have besides you. Abuela is gone, and I never knew Jennifer or her parents—”

“Which is a Christmas gift itself,” Scott mutters.

Liam shrugs and sighs, sitting back a little as Isaac places their coffees in front of them. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I just… sometimes, I just wanted a mom, you know?”

With a huff, Isaac puts the toast and hash browns in front of them, too. “Your dad was a dad, a mom, and all the extended family all rolled up into one guy,” he says. “You’re just about the luckiest kid in the whole world.” Scott smiles gratefully up at him, but shrugs.

“It’s okay, Liam,” he says. “If you want to go to the party, we can go.”

Liam winces, but quickly recovers. “No, Dad,” he insists. “Really, it’s okay. I’ll go by myself.”

It’s not for a lack of trying that Isaac doesn’t make himself scarce immediately, but at the next table Stiles grabs him by the wrist to stop him. “If we have to watch this train wreck, so do you,” he says, and they all watch attentively as Scott frowns at his son.

“Why are you being so insistent?” Scott asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Liam looks guiltily down at the table. “Was I… not invited? Did my own my father uninvite me to his party?”

After a pause, Liam admits, “A little. But I don’t think he thinks you’d want to come.”

Whether or not he’d want to come, Scott thinks it’s only fair that if he invite Liam, he invite Scott. But it isn’t as if he’s ever wanted a good relationship with his father anyway. Right? So Liam should go, enjoy the time with the man Scott never wanted to have in his life.

“Okay,” Scott says, _keeping his cool._ “Well, I’m not mad. When is it?”

Another pause. He can almost hear the sharp intake of air from Stiles, Isaac, and Allison as they wait for the inevitable bomb drop. “Christmas Eve?” Liam says sheepishly, and they all collectively groan.

“Liam, that’s our day!” Scott says. “We hang out, watch movies, and eat Chinese food on Christmas Eve!”

This is a well-known fact. If you want to contact the McCall men and it’s 12:01 AM December 24th, well, good luck. They’re already asleep in preparation of their all-day Christmas movie marathon. They start in Classics with _Miracle on 34 th Street _and end all the way at Comedy with _A Christmas Story,_ with detours along the way such as Animation and RomComs. They order from a Chinese food restaurant and sit in their pajamas, from 8 AM to 1 AM the next day, watching movies.

“Well, it’ll only be an hour or two,” Liam offers with a frown. “And we could do it on Christmas Day?”

But Scott shakes his head, feeling ever the petulant child. “We have Christmas dinners on Christmas Day.”

Suddenly, Isaac interjects with a raised brow. “Dinner _s_?” he asks. “As in, multiple dinners?”

Together, Scott and Liam nod. “Well, yeah,” Scott says. “There’s dinner with Mason’s family, the Hewitt’s, and then—”

“Ours!” Allison cuts in cheerfully.

“ _Twice,_ ” Scott stresses. “Once with your crazy family and once without.”

Allison pouts, and is probably about to interject with something along the lines of _they’re not crazy,_ but Stiles cuts in. “Yes, our house twice. Remember, Scott, they’re arriving at six. You have to save me, and bring me lots of alcohol.”

Scott nods, and Liam tacks on, “And here. We always come here.”

Isaac scoffs and waves a hand. “You don’t have to come here,” he says. “Cut some time out of your schedule, watch some more movies.”

But both McCall’s stubbornly shake their head. “No way,” Scott says. “We like coming here.”

“It’s _tradition,_ ” Liam adds.

“Besides, who wouldn’t want to wish your beautiful face a merry Christmas?” Scott asks, voice on the edge of a laugh, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he saw Isaac blush.

Sighing, Liam turns back to the matter at hand. “Anyway,” he says, “I’m sorry. I should have asked for the date before I said yes. I’ll just cancel.”

It wasn’t that Liam should have asked, Scott thinks, but that Rafe should have told him. Liam probably told Rafe about their yearly tradition, and so Rafe (in spite of Scott) invited him over for dinner. Perfect. But either way, Scott shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. Family’s important to you, and I understand that. You should go and have fun.”

A smile breaks out over his face. “Thanks Dad,” Liam says. He stands and sighs, looking at the clock. “Well, I really have to get to school.” He turns to the others and gives a polite goodbye before exiting, the doorbell swinging and jingling above his head.

Everyone looks at Scott expectantly, but he just puts his head on the table and groans.

\--

Like it’s been said before, Stars Hollow is quiet. On Christmas Eve, it’s almost worse, and especially in the midst of a blizzard. Everyone is safe inside their homes, warm and with family, and not a peep can be heard in the town square. The dance studio has closed for the night, the bank shut down. Only one little shop is still open, and the diner’s lights are a beacon in the distance. Scott slowly shuffles towards it, struggling against both wind and snow, fidgeting with the scarf around his nose and mouth.

The door swings open with the force of his hand, and the only person within the diner freezes in place. “What are you doing out in the biggest blizzard of the year?” Isaac asks, the glass and rag still in his hands.

Scott huffs and sits on one of the only chairs that haven’t been flipped over yet. “Liam hasn’t come home yet, and I was getting restless,” he explains. “So I came to see of you were still around, and then it started snowing.”

Isaac frowns. “Why not go back to your house?” he asks, and Scott shrugs.

“I was already halfway here.” He takes off his gloves and shoves them in the pockets of his coat, then shrugs that off from his shoulders and places it over his chair. Once he’s settled, he sighs and rests on the table with his hand. “Not the very merriest Christmas, is it?” he asks. He half-hopes the glumness doesn’t show in his voice, and half-knows that it does.

Without looking, the telltale sounds of the diner tells Scott what Isaac is doing. The counter squeaks as Isaac puts the glass and towel down, then the heavy fall of his work boots on the tile floor tell him that he’s moving towards him. The chair across from him makes an ugly scraping noise as it moves on the floor, then squeaks indignantly under Isaac’s weight. “You okay?” Isaac asks, and isn’t that a good question.

So he shrugs again. “Yeah,” he says, though he doesn’t mean _yeah,_ he means _no._ “It’s just, with all this shit—Rafe throwing himself back into Liam’s life, Allison and Stiles having kids, Liam going to Devenford. It’s just been a long, stressful year, and… I don’t feel very festive.” There’s a long pause, and Scott laughs sadly. “Oh my God, listen to me. I’m sitting here in your diner, when you’re obviously closing up—I feel like an ass. I’ll go.”

But Isaac shakes his head. “You can’t go out there. You’ll freeze to death,” he argues. “Just hang out here. I don’t mind.”

Scott turns to him, raises a doubtful eyebrow. Since when does Isaac “Grinch-Grouch-Grump” Lahey not mind company? “Really?” he asks. “Whenever I ask you what you’re doing for Christmas, you say ‘taking a break from my least favorite patrons.’”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “You’re not _really_ my least favorite patrons,” he says, begrudgingly. Scott grins and nudges him with his shoulder, prompting Isaac to sigh and say, “You’re my favorite patrons. There, are you happy?”

“Never been happier,” Scott confirms. “But… can we put on some music or something? Kind of sad to sit here in silence on Christmas Eve.”

To his surprise, Isaac stands and walks over to the counter, where the one and only radio, covered in dust and dirt, sits, turning it on with the flip of a switch. It crackles for a moment, until Isaac smacks it on the side and presses another button. The ending verse of _Santa Baby_ comes streaming through the speakers, and Isaac returns to his chair.

Scott sighs and lays his head on his forearms as the DJ starts speaking. “And that was _Santa Baby_! Alright, well, with just a few seconds to midnight, I’m going to play one of my favorites—an absolute classic. Merry Christmas, Stars Hollow.”

Just then, a hand comes awkwardly to rest on his shoulder. He glances behind him to see Isaac sitting there with a half-smile on his face; Scott can tell he’s trying to be comforting, and it’s certainly the thought that matters. Eventually, the opening keys to _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_ play, and Scott snorts. “How appropriate,” he mutters. Then he sighs again and murmurs, “Hey, Isaac?”

The hand on his shoulder has relaxed, and is now rubbing circles into his shoulder blade. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Merry Christmas.”

The hand stills for a slight second, then starts moving again. “Merry Christmas, Scott,” is the reply, and though he doesn’t turn around to check, as not to shatter the illusion, it sounds as if he’s smiling.

**III.**

Allison’s Christmas party is in full swing by the time they arrive. Immediately, Mason runs up; after giving Scott a hug, he and Liam scurry off in the opposite direction, deserting Scott in the process. For a moment he’s disappointed, and then he remembers what it was like to be sixteen, and shrugs it off.

He ventures further towards the back of the house, where the kitchen is and where he guesses Allison is too. On the way he passes Stiles and Lydia, who pause their argument to stare at him for a moment before returning to full swing arguing. He also sees Malia and Kira through the throng of the crowd, slow dancing to no song in particular. They also pause mid-step to glance at him; Malia gives him a thumbs up and Kira shrieks, “I told you!” He then hurries off.

When he finally reaches the kitchen, sure enough, Allison is inside, little Victoria kicking her feet from her highchair. “Scott, thank _God,_ ” she says without looking, busy slicing off pieces of ham. “I need you to do me a favor and—” She turns to him, eyes widening at his outfit. “What are you _wearing_?”

He blinks, then looks down at his outfit. His dark blue sweater has four snowmen on it, all wearing shades and drinking drinks with ice cubes in them. The back, he knows, says “YOU’RE COOL!” “What?” he asks with a frown. “You told me an ugly sweater party.” He then points to her own sweater, with a cat’s face sticking out from the front of the pink material. “ _You’re_ wearing an ugly sweater.”

She nods slowly. “I _know._ But you’re wearing the same sweater as Isaac.”

Scott frowns and is about to ask what she means when suddenly someone bumps into him from behind. With an “oomph,” they both stumble forward and nearly to the floor. He turns to give the guy a piece of his mind, but finds that it’s Isaac who is, surely enough, wearing the same damn sweater. “Huh,” Scott says slowly. “Guess you’re right.”

Isaac smiles, tight-lipped. “Hi,” he says, and Scott grins as an answer. They’re quiet for a few seconds, before Isaac must realize they’re standing weirdly close, because he takes a big step back.

Then they both look to Allison, who’s smiling smugly. “Anyway,” she says, entirely too giddy, “one of you has to go home into change.”

Both men raise their eyebrows. “Into what?” Scott asks. “One of the other fifty other ugly sweaters I have laying around?”

Though he abandoned his family at an early age, the stylish sense of fashion has stuck with him. He knows how to color-coordinate and match patterns with the best of them. Finding this sweater in itself was a struggle; he went to some lame gift shop just outside of town and bought the first sweater he could find. Which, of course, is probably what Isaac did.

“He’s right,” Isaac says, nodding. “Besides, you and Stiles are wearing matching sweaters. What’s the big deal?”

And now they’ve really put the nail in the coffin. Allison will hold onto that one—taunt Scott with it, tell him that he and Isaac are soulmates, that they’re practically already a couple—for a long, long time.

Allison’s mouth begins curling like the Grinch who stole Christmas, even if she tries desperately to hide it from them. “That’s different,” she says, “mine is a cat and his is a dog. Plus, when you press them, they sing Jingle Bells together in barks and meows.” She gestures at them with the hand holding a knife, which makes Scott very nervous, as the other one rests on her hip. “You two just look ridiculous.”

“Thanks, Ally,” Scott mutters. But he shakes his head. “We’ll be fine,” he insists, then grabs Isaac by the arm and drags him out of there before things can get any worse.

\--

Scott has lost count. In fact, he’s unsure even his genius son can count this high. _That_ is how many times people have come up to him and told him he and Isaac make a cute couple. And every time he tried to insist that no, he and Isaac are _not_ dating, just friends, he usually got a laugh and some variation of the exact comment he got from Allison’s mother:

“Don’t worry, dear, we’re very liberal here in the Hollow. There’s no need to hide away!”

By the end of the party, as only ten or so people are left, he’s exhausted, frustrated, and embarrassed. Liam practically waltzes up to him, smirking smugly. “Have a good time, Dad?” he asks, and Scott rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Scott murmurs, “before any more embarrassment comes my way.” They’re about to gather their coats when a movement catches their attention; Isaac is headed their way.

As he steps up to them, Liam throws open his arms. “Are you my new dad?” he asks, and Isaac, too, rolls his eyes.

“Very funny,” he mutters, then sighs and turns to Scott. “I’m sorry about the whole… thing.”

Scott nods. “Me too,” he says. “Next time we’ll just get dressed together, huh?” And he winks.

That was a mistake, apparently, because Isaac’s face goes pink and he begins stuttering. “Uh, I—I don’t, um—I…” Then, without another word, he hurries out the door.

Scott can feel Liam smiling at the side of his face. “Don’t say a word,” he mutters, and Liam feigns a look of innocence.

“I wasn’t going to say _anything_ ,” he promises, “Definitely.”

But the smirk stays for the ride home and into Christmas morning.

**IV.**

“Welcome to the building previously called the Dragonfly Inn! I am so glad that you could all join us for a very special Christmas Eve! There is a list of planned activities on each of your doors. If you need anything at all, you can talk to Allison or myself. Or, our very own manager, Lydia Martin." The crowd dutifully claps, and Lydia takes a bow from behind the desk. “Anyway, welcome to the Red Moon. Enjoy your stay and have a merry Christmas!”

The townspeople of Stars Hollow very kindly clap, then head off in the directions of their rooms or the dining hall. Allison scrambles towards the direction of the kitchen, spatula in hand and second baby bump proceeding her. Stiles approaches Scott then, Victoria on his hip, babbling incoherently into his ear. “Hey buddy,” he says to Scott. “Congrats on the new place.”

“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “It’s been a long way here, but it was worth it.” Which is true. He and Allison first met almost ten years ago, and getting here, owning their own inn, has been a part of over half the journey. He sighs and looks around to see if anyone is in need anything, and sees Liam a few feet away, whispering angrily into a phone. “Excuse me for a second?” he asks, and Stiles nods before wandering in the direction of the kitchen.

He shuffles up to Liam, who’s still talking into the phone, and taps him on the shoulder. Liam turns and raises his eyebrows. “You okay?” Scott mouths, and Liam shrugs.

“Yeah, okay,” he says into the phone. “Gotta go. Bye.” He sighs as he hangs up, and sticks the phone in the pocket of his dressy pants. “That was Brett. You know, from school?”

After a minute, Scott raises an eyebrow. “Your arch nemesis?” he asks. “The ‘I’m going to destroy you and everything you stand for, McCall’ Brett?” Liam nods. “Oh, then yeah, go on.”

Liam shrugs. “Well, we’re actually kind of friends now. Like, we’re still super competitive and sometimes we hate each other’s guts, but he’s actually a really nice guy.” He takes a deep breath, then continues. “Anyway, his parents are shitty people, and they leave him alone every Christmas, so I told him he could come stay the night. He can bunk in my room. If… that’s okay?”

Scott just smiles. “The more the merrier, I guess,” he says. “Just don’t get into a snowball fight with him and break the whole inn, okay? It’s new.” Liam laughs, but nods, and Scott leans down to kiss him on the head. Just then, Mason calls his name on the stairs, and Liam turns to Scott with puppy eyes that have worked on him for seventeen years and won’t stop now. “Okay, fine. Be good. Love you.”

“Love you too!” Liam calls over his shoulder as he rushes off, tearing past Isaac on his way up the stairs.

The bewildered diner owner shakes his head, then continues down the stairs towards Scott. “Hey,” he says with a smile.

Scott grins back. “Hey yourself,” he says. Isaac comes to a stop a safe distance away from him, which is something he’s been doing since Christmas last year. “Glad you’re here tonight.”

Isaac furrows his brows and lets his smile slip. “Why wouldn’t I be here?” he asks, and Scott shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says, “things have been weird since last Christmas. I kind of thought we’d never recover.”

“From what?” Isaac asks, seemingly oblivious.

Scott sighs and shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says sincerely. “Hey, the horse drawn carriages are starting in ten minutes. Do you want to go together?”

Isaac frowns and gestures behind him to where Liam and Mason are sitting and chatting at the top of the stairs. “Don’t you want to go with Liam?” he asks.

Just then, the door behind him clicks open. Both Scott and Isaac turn to see a boy Scott’s never seen before enter the inn. His hair is shaggy and ragged, and his cheekbones seemingly cut from shards of glass. They then both look up to Liam, who’s standing now, eyes wide. Beside him, Mason just rolls his eyes before getting up and walking away, clearly resigned. So Brett is a friend? “I don’t think he’ll want to go with his dad,” Scott says, laughing, and before he knows it, Isaac’s laughing too.

“Sure,” Isaac says eventually, “I’ll go with you.” And Scott smiles.

\--

They climb in the carriage, Scott comfortably so and Isaac with his knees hitting the back of the driver’s bench, squirming in pain. Scott stifles a laugh, and Isaac tries—and fails—to readjust himself. Eventually, though, they take off, and Scott chooses instead to watch the town pass by them. “You know,” he says, “I’ve always wanted to see this place lit up.”

“Really?” Isaac asks. Scott turns to face him, and he seems as if he was watching Scott rather than the town. “How so?”

Scott shrugs, pulling his jacket tighter against himself. “I don’t know,” he says. “I always thought that lights on the gazeebo would look nice. Maybe some wreaths on the shops or something. A little ice rink on the grass, carolers. Then someone hands the guest of honor a Christmas present that happens to be perfect for them.” It sounds lame, now that he says it out loud. When he arrived here, in what many other people would call a small town, he imagined a magical Christmas. Like something straight out of the Hallmark movies Allison has become inexplicably addicted to. The gazeebo all lit, with mistletoe everywhere and couples skating on the makeshift rink. Just a town party of sorts. He huffs a laugh. “Sounds so dumb, right?”

But when Scott turns to look at Isaac, his face isn’t judgmental. His features are softened, with a gentle smile on his lips. He looks like Scott means the world to him. “Not at all,” he says. Then they both sit back and ride the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.

\--

When Scott and Isaac enter and Liam shouts, “Dad, Isaac! Stop!” it’s safe to say they both almost have heart attacks.

“What?” Scott asks, looking around frantically. “What is it? Is everything alright?”

But then, a sly and sneaky sort of smile breaks out over Liam’s face. Allison and Lydia, too; Stiles looks surprisingly nervous, and Scott feels as if something he isn’t going to particularly like is going to happen. But it isn’t until Allison mouths, “Look up,” that he begins to understand what’s happening.

Isaac seems to get it at the same time. He nudges Scott and whispers, “Mistletoe.”

“You have to kiss,” Mason gushes. “It’s tradition!” Scott is about to ask where his mother is when he realizes that it’s past 8:30, and she is no doubt in bed.

Scott brings his hand down to Isaac’s wrist and squeezes. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, “I’ll get us out of this.” Then he clears his throat and raises his hands. “Guys, we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do. We’re adults, okay, we aren’t—”

“I hear if you step out from underneath without kissing someone, it brings seven years bad luck,” Allison says, smiling confidently.

“I hear it can be poisonous,” says Lydia, cocking an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.

But it’s Liam who really delivers the kicker: “I hear it can _curse_ the building you’re standing in.”

Damn. If anyone who knows Scott McCall knows _anything_ about Scott McCall, it’s that he’s ridiculously superstitious to the point of terror. So he freezes in position, before slowly crossing his arms across his chest and frowning. “Well then,” he says. “I suppose we’re never moving.”

Isaac huffs, then abruptly turns to him. “Look,” he says, “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

Uh oh. He swallows and shrugs nonchalantly. “It doesn’t bother me at all,” he insists, even though it does very much bother him. “I just don’t want it to get weird again.”

Scrunching up his face, Isaac says, “Weird? I don’t think it’ll get weird. As long as we don’t let it get weird.” But Scott tracks the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallows with his eyes. “Right?”

“Right. Right?”

But before Isaac can reply, someone that sounds suspiciously like Liam yells, “Just kiss already!”

And so they do.

It's just a little rushed, and just a little shy, and just a little lingering. And just exactly like them. Isaac’s lips are softer than he expected, really; they feel like soft satin against his, whereas Isaac is a gruff and rough person. Eventually, Isaac’s hand comes up gingerly to rest at the nape of Scott’s neck, and Scott brings his up to tug at Isaac’s scarf. After what feels like a lifetime, Scott pulls away gently, and opens his eyes to look up at Isaac. His cheeks are pink, even though they came in from the cold a while ago, and his eyes wide.

After a few moments of silence, the applause breaks out. It starts with Liam whooping, then Allison and Lydia join in with clapping. Soon, the whole of the Red Moon Inn is applauding vigorously, and wow, once again Scott is totally, supremely embarrassed. Beside him, Isaac mutters something and scurries off towards his room, just as Scott resigns to stay only in his office for the rest of his life. He passes Liam, who, once again, looks entirely too smug, and mutters, “Not a word. Not a single word or you’re grounded until you’re married.”

The last thing he hears is Liam, Allison, Lydia, and Mason cackling loudly. 

**V.**

“You _cannot open your eyes._ ”

“Well, good thing I literally can’t with your hands over my eyes.”

“Wow, snarky much?”

In his opinion, he has a _right_ to be snarky. It’s Liam’s last Christmas at home. If he were not graduating this year, Scott would probably be considerably less grumpy and less bitter about going out for Christmas Eve. He’s going to miss hanging out with his kid once he’s too busy to come home for the holidays.

He trips as they go off the curb, only stumbling slightly. “Liam, I want to go _home,_ ” he says. “And watch movies and eat Chinese food.”

“Stop grumbling, old man. We’re almost there.”

Although he continues to grumble the whole way, eventually they come to a stop. “Okay,” Liam whispers, his voice tinged with excitement. “Open them.”

After Liam removes his hands and Scott opens his eyes, he sees the reason for all the excitement.

The gazeebo is decorated fully, beautiful lights lit up and down its supporting beams. There are wreaths in every window, and all the townspeople are in the town square. A few carolers are huddled together singing carols, and in the middle are all their friends. Mason and Brett stand side-by-side, Brett with a dozen roses in hand. Lydia stands off to the side, bundled up head-to-toe and checking her makeup in a compact mirror. Allison and Stiles stand next to her, Victoria on Stiles’ hip and Claudia on Allison’s, both smiling and holding hands. And in the middle is Isaac, smiling softly, with a gift in hand.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Liam whispers, and Scott turns to him.

“You did all this for me?” he asks, and Liam lets his head fall.

“Well, no, actually,” he says. “I helped put it together, but it was all Isaac’s idea.” Scott spins on his heel and Isaac waves sheepishly from the gazeebo. “He figured that, since it was my last year for a pre-college Christmas, we should go all out. I have no idea where he came up with all of this though.”

 _Because he remembered,_ Scott thinks, and walks up the path to the gazeebo. The townspeople of Stars Hollow pat him on the back as he passes; Mason wraps him in a hug, and Brett too, being careful not to crush the flowers in his hands, the tag that dangles off them reading _Liam_. He hugs Lydia next, and she gingerly wraps her arms around him too. Stiles, Allison, and their children attack him full force, Victoria attaching herself to his leg and Stiles and Allison both throwing their arms around him. (Even Claudia seems to hug him, or maybe that’s just the Christmas spirit.)

And then, when they step back and seemingly melt away, Isaac steps forward and hands him the gift box he had in hand. “Merry Christmas, guest of honor,” he whispers, and Scott doesn’t say anything, because if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing might come out, like a love confession or something.

He pulls open the wrapping on the package and opens up the box. Inside is a big snow globe. The base reads _Stars Hollow,_ and inside is their town. He can see various little figures; a couple with two kids, two women with a cat rolling at their feet, a girl with a compact mirror and long red nails. There’s even a little man standing outside of Lahey’s, with curly hair and crossed arms. And in the middle are what seem to be a tiny Liam and Scott, hugging and laughing.

“Did you make this?” Scott whispers, looking at it reverently. He shouldn’t be surprised when Isaac nods, but he almost is. “Thank you,” he says, and he doesn’t remember his voice getting raspy, but it did. “It’s amazing.”

Isaac nods and is about to say something, but instead, Scott pulls on his scarf until he’s stooped down to meet him by the mouth. Their lips crash together, much rougher, sloppier, and pulled out than the first time around, and Scott wouldn’t have it any other way. Isaac tastes like the coffee he makes, and like fifteen years’ worth of tension built up into one kiss.

When they pull away, they both smile. “Merry Christmas,” Scott whispers, and Isaac laughs.

“Merry Christmas.”

**I.**

When Isaac wakes up every morning and rolls over in his sleep-induced daze, it’s to come face to face with the same person. Which is truly a gift itself; Scott is probably the most handsome man he’s ever seen.

But when he wakes up on Christmas morning, there’s no Scott.

They’re one of those sickening couples that cuddle literally every night. (Isaac may be the little spoon, but come on, who doesn’t want to be the little spoon?) So when he wakes up to no arms around him, he thinks that it’s odd. When he turns and there’s no Scott, he frowns. And when he calls out and Scott doesn’t answer, then insets the panic.

He gets up and heads down the stairs, his feet quietly padding on the wood beneath him. And when he hits the bottom floor, he hears it: singing.

The trail of singing leads him all the way to the kitchen, where he finds his boyfriend surrounded by cooking supplies. Scott is wearing one of Isaac’s flannels loosely around his shoulders, the sleeves bunched up around his wrists. He’s singing _Holly Jolly Christmas,_ and seemingly making pancakes. Scott startles when he turns around to face him, almost dropping the spatula in his hand. “You _scared_ me,” he says, putting his hand over his heart.

Isaac laughs, leans on the door frame, and nods towards the food. “What are you doing?” he asks.

Scott frowns and moves his hands to his hips. “They were supposed to be star-shaped pancakes,” he explains. “I was trying to follow a Pinterest tutorial.” Isaac snorts. As if Pinterest knows how to make good pancakes. “But it kind of fell through.” He gestures towards them with his spatula, burnt blobs of batter strung together with tiny strings. Scott shrugs. “Merry Christmas?” he offers, and Isaac smiles.

“It’s the thought that counts,” he says. “Want to order out?”

Although they _did_ just order out yesterday; Liam came over, and they made him sit in on their movie-watching marathon. “You’re family!” Liam had insisted. (They started off with _It’s a Wonderful Life,_ which Isaac had never seen before and they had insisted was good. Those monsters.) And tonight, they were going to Brett and Liam’s apartment, where they would surely once again order, since they were kids and no one there knew how to cook.

Scott hums, then holds out the spatula. “You cook?” he asks hopefully, and Isaac rolls his eyes but takes it from him by the handle. Scott cheers, and leans up to kiss him on the cheek. “Love you,” he murmurs, before leaving the kitchen with burnt pancakes in hand.

Isaac blinks. He probably doesn’t even realize that’s the first time he said it.

 _Oh well,_ Isaac thinks, getting out the makings for batter. He’ll figure it out eventually. After all, he wouldn’t just not realize it on _Christmas._

Right?


End file.
